The Boy Who Fell
by AbbyTheBlue
Summary: Cas had fallen for Dean; in both the metaphorical and literal sense. He fell to Earth and bound his wings, and now both he and his human lover wear rings on their fingers. Everything was perfect. Only, what happens when he starts to remember his angelic past? What happens when Heaven finds him? Destiel. (Profile image not mine)
1. His Husband

He could still remember the day. Every word, every look, every crisp, was just as fresh in his mind now as it was then, over a year ago.

"Dean," He'd said to him, in his usual serious manner. "I want to do this."

Dean shook his head. "Cas… you'd be… giving up everything."

"I wouldn't be giving up you," He reminded him. He paused. He was so sweet.

"Will it hurt you?"

"Yes,"

"What should I do what you get down?"

"Just take me in," He explained, "I'll become extremely suggestible, just tell me everything outside of being an angel. I won't be able to get rid of my wings, but I'll be able to bind them with a spell and my grace will be gone. The rest of the details about us won't have trouble coming back,"

"How can you be sure?" He'd asked him.

"I can't," he said honestly, "But I have to do this. I love you."

Dean smiled softly back at his clear blue eyes. "I love you, too."

He remembered he vanished then, and he found him just a little while later, having landed a few miles away. He remembered he was hurt… and scared. But Castiel did remember. Everything aside from being an angel. Dean smiled to his reflection in the mirror. _I was glad he fell for me,_ Dean thought, _Otherwise I wouldn't be here right now._

Dean studied his reflection in the tall mirror. It was an odd sight, he thought. His own self, decked out in a real, expensive suit, his hair actually clean and his face looking more rested than it really looked… ever. He couldn't decide if it was good weird or bad weird, but it barely looked like him. He adjusted his black tie nervously. This was insane. I mean, it was what he had wanted since that day all those years ago, but totally insane. Still, it felt like a blurry, confusing dream. He wasn't sure if he wanted it or not, which scared him, frankly. Of course I do, he reminded himself. Of course. You love him. You love him.

Just then, the door behind him opened. Dean whipped around to see Sam grinning as he entered the little room. He was in a suit, too, but he was wearing one of the cheap suits they'd used to seem like FBI. He shook his head slowly at the sight of his brother.

"Wow," he said.

"Shut up," Dean replied.

"No, it looks… great." Sam told him. "Are you nervous?"

"Of course I'm not nervous, why would I be?" Dean scoffed in reply. He was lying, of course.

"Well, you _are_ getting married. That doesn't scare you?" Sam pressed. "No second thoughts, I hope?"

Dean thought for a moment before he turned back to the mirror, seeing his brother behind him. "No," He said honestly. "No, I've known what I wanted from the start. I want this."

"I believe it," Sam said. He crossed his arms. "You know, I knew it from the start."

"Yeah, right," Dean replied, rolling his eyes.

"It's true. The way you looked at him. The romantic tension was just crippling, I've suffered for this."

Dean laughed slightly, and Sam smiled back. His voice softened, "It's been a long time since you've been this happy," he confessed.

Dean shrugged. "Things are looking up, Sammy," He told him. He looked away for a moment, before asking. "Did everyone show?"

"All the hunters, all the friends, everyone we still know who's, well, still alive." Sam told him. Dean nodded.

"Good," he hesitated, his heart pounding against his chest. "I guess I'd better get out there."

"I guess you better," Sam agreed. "I'll meet you out there." Then Sam turned and left the small building that he changed in. Dean straightened his back and looked into the mirror, leaving a determined look on his face. "Guns blazing," he whispered to himself.

The ceremony was outrageously short. Garth had come in from whatever he was doing to read the vows, which he wrote himself, which may not have been the best idea. Still, the two men couldn't be brought down as green eyes stared into blue and Garth grinned brightly and read whatever oddities he wrote. And admittedly, it wasn't all that bad.

"Do you, Cas, promise to kick the ass of any monster that comes between the two of you, climb up from Hell and save him if he's the one down there, and take him to heaven without dying hopefully; To love him in sickness and in health, if and when he's a demon, werewolf, vampire, or any other spooky shit that he may become; Do you swear to remain together in good times and through the apocalypse itself and be the one to sell your soul if he ends up dead?" Garth said. Cas took in a long breath and sighed out again,

"I do." Dean grinned. Yes. Nailed it.

"And do you, Dean," Garth began, "Promise to do all of the things I just said Cas would do for you?"

Dean smiled genuinely, his heart racing. "Hell yeah," He replied. The small audience of hunters broke into applause as the two kissed and joined forever.

That was two days ago. Cas was moved into the bunker, now, and neither of them had ever really been happier. Sam, too. He loved his brother, and he loved seeing him like this. For the first time, in a long time, things were working out.

Of course, there would always be a weight on Dean's chest. Every time Cas looks up at the sky, or a bird, or hears about heaven, he worried. He couldn't have him remember. He assured himself that it wasn't selfish; Cas didn't remember. Not to mention, other angels had fallen before, and they hadn't exactly gotten off well. They went out for dinner once, and the waitress had casually called him an angel. Dean nearly had a heart attack.

But he didn't seem to be catching on at all. He was happy here. He didn't notice anything, and nothing had happened. That was until he got back from getting food once. They were near a city, working some case (yes, they still worked cases as a couple), so Cas had taken a subway to a takeout restaurant and gotten some food. When he got home, Dean knew it had started.

"Hey Dean," He greeted, throwing the food down on the table and pecking Dean on the lips.

"Hey babe," Dean responded, kissing him back and quickly hurrying to the bag and fishing out his burger. He pulled it out and sit down in the chair at the table, and Cas sat at the other chair across from his, getting his out too.

"Sam's doing research," Dean explained, Cas not having to ask. "He'll get his food in a bit."

"Okay," Cas replied. "Weird experience on the Subway," he told Dean, taking a bite of his burger. Dean looked up at him, trying to keep the nervousness out of his eyes.

"Oh yeah?" He asked casually.

"Yeah, this guy just started talking to me out of nowhere. He got really threatening, I was glad I didn't have to travel far. You think he's the vamp that's somewhere around here?"

"What did he say?" Dean asked, ignoring his question. He set down his burger, his appetite suddenly gone.

"Nothing sensical," Cas responded, shaking his head. "Something about Heaven, and hearing voices in my head. He said 'we'll find you' which is… eerie."

Dean suddenly stood, his chair scooching back behind him. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again, trying not to panic.

"Excuse me for a sec," he said, his voice remaining soft. Then, he swept out of the dining room and up the stair, hearing Cas call "What's wrong?" After him. He hurried into Sam's room without knocking to find Sam sitting on his bed, his laptop lighting his face.

"Hey, you could at least knock!" Sam objected, irritated, as Dean hurried in and slammed his computer closed. "What are you doing, I was getting a lead!"

"There's more important things!" Dean insisted. He swallowed, pausing before he said. "They found Cas."

As the two spoke, Castiel waited downstairs for nearly a solid three seconds before his curiosity got the best of him. Softly, he snuck up the stairs and pressed his ear to the door to Sam's bedroom, but they must have been talking in code. He couldn't decipher any of it, and yet, they said it with such passion and… fear. He hated hearing Dean like this, but he just had to listen.

"Look, Sam, I don't know what we're supposed to do!"

"Did you get which angel it was?"

"Why does it matter?!"  
"Because if it's some crazy archangel, we may not just be able to walk in and gank them! Do you even _have_ an angel blade anymore?!"

"Of course I have an angel blade! And I don't care if it's the man upstairs himself, I'll kill him, I made that vow not even a week ago!"

"I don't care what vows you made, Dean, we have to take precautions!"

"The more he sees this stuff, the more likely he is to remember!"

"Dean, that isn't in question anymore!" Sam insisted. There was a thud, like he'd bandged on a table or stomped his foot. "Whether it's in a week or when he's eighty, he _will_ remember! He's not stupid!"

"I know!"  
"Why is it so important to you, anyway?! You loved him plenty when he was an angel!"

"Of course I did, but-"

"You know, Dean, it's starting to seem sort of selfish?! Who are you to take that information away from him?!"

"He said he didn't want to remember!" Dean insisted. "He said it himself, that day, he didn't want to remember any of his past!"

"There's something else Dean!" Sam insisted. "Some reason you don't want him to!"  
"Yeah, okay?! I don't want him to know!" There was a bit of a pause before Dean continued, his voice growing softer. "Things were just finally working out! I just want to stay here, on Earth, with my _human_ husband!"

Sam's voice got softer as he replied, "You're lying to yourself, Dean."

"Maybe I am. But I'm gonna dic up my angel blade, find that angelic son of a bitch and slit his throat,"

At that point, Cas pulled his ear from the door, feeling as though Dean may leave at any time. He backed away, confused. What? Angels? There were angels? He had known about demons and vampires and werewolves and etc, but he'd never really considered that angels were out there. And what about his past? What didn't he remember? What was going on?


	2. His Wings

Hurriedly, he slipped back downstairs into the chair he had been in just a few moments ago. He could soon see he was right to come down when he did as Dean was down nearly right after him, an angry and uneasy expression lining his face.

"I gotta run an errand," he mumbled nervously, not looking at Cas as he passed. He hurried off in the direction of the dungeon. Cas followed nervously, questioning whether to bring it up or not.

"Where are you going?" Cas asked, following Dean as he went down into the dungeon.

"A hunt," he replied briefly.

"I thought we were still deciding who the vamp was," Cas brought up.

"A… another hunt," Dean replied anxiously. He hurried over to one of the boxes in the dungeon, getting on his knees and frantically looking through it. Cas stood off to the side, looking away for another moment. What was he looking for? Was it the 'angel blade', as he put it?

"You want me to come?" He asked.

"No!" Dean growled, looking back. He stopped, shutting his eyes and sighing as he calmed down. "I'm sorry I just… I have to do this alone," Cas slowly nodded in acknowledgement, however still confused.

"Alright, Dean," He told him, as Dean found whatever he needed and tucked it in his coat. All Cas could see was a glimmer of silver before it was hidden. Dean quickly stood and turned to the door.

"I love you," Cas interjected, before he could leave. Dean stopped in his tracks, looking back but not making eye contact. He was still enveloped in fear that he would find out and ruin it all, and he wanted nothing more than to jump into his arms again. He rubbed the ring on his finger with his thumb. No. He'd fix it. It would stay perfect.

"Yeah… I love you too…" He replied. Quickly, he hurried out of the dungeon and out of the bunker to find the angel on the loose.

Sam was expecting questions from Cas, but surprisingly he didn't pose any. Honestly, he was curious, but that didn't mean he wanted to know. It sounded big, not to mention, Dean seemed to be convinced he ought not to know, so he'd just hold off for now. Really, as he told Sam, he was just tired. The last few nights had gone on three or four hours, a usual hunter's sleep, but every so often you just had to make up for it. So, a nap it was.

Meanwhile, Dean was out into town, but his determination was fading. It occurred to him he hadn't really planned this out. He had no clue what he looked like, where he'd be, or how to find him. So, he took the reckless approach. He kept walking until he found an alleyway, out of the way, and prayed up to the sky.

"Hey!" He cried up. "Whoever you are! This is Dean Winchester, and if you're looking for a lovely fallen angel called Castiel…" He hesitated, reluctantly saying the next bit. "I've got him! Not here in the next hour, you'll never find us. Be here." Dean then sat down against the building to the left and waited.

After about thirty minutes of just sitting there, a man with a bottle in his wavering hand and a too-big sweatshirt over his body sat across from him. "Hey," he greeted.

Dean rolled his eyes and ignored him. He reached into his coat, feeling the sweaty hilt of his knife. He looked up again as the man spoke.

"You know, you call for me, the least you could do was acknowledge me," The man took down his hood, showing a serious face of curly hair and a clean face. Dean rapidly stood, fury in his eyes and his angel blade out. The angel. He lunged at him, but he quickly stood and raised his hand, pressing him hard against the wall.

"Where's Cas, Dean?" The angel asked seriously.

"Fuck you!" Dean spat back.

"I could hurt you,"

"Yeah, I know, I've dealt with your type," He sneered, "Although, never quite so pathetic looking."

"What, did you think I would just appear in a flash of white light? We're in the middle of the city, _you_ already look like a nut for calling me at all. Earth requires subtlety."

"Shut up!" Dean growled.

"Will you tell me where Cas is?"

"No!"

"Fine," he replied. He dropped Dean from the wall, leaving him to slink to the ground. "I'll find him myself," he said. He turned and casually began walking out the alley. Dean growled to himself, rapidly standing, angel blade in hand. He leapt up as he stabbed him in the back of the throat.

"I don't think so," He growled, and let him drop dead to the floor.

While he was there, Cas was at home in a restless sleep. It was worse tonight. He didn't sleep much already, as whenever he started to fall into an actual deep sleep there would be a tight pain in his chest and back. He figured it was something to do with sleep paralysis or something, he was sure it wasn't significant, but certainly annoying. Every time he managed to get to sleep he dreamed something like being killed by a boa constrictor or having ropes tightening around his torso and then be woken with a similar pain, until it slowly faded.

Tonight, however, it didn't seem to fade. His nightmares got worse and worse, now involving angels and torture, and finally he concluded that sleep may not be the best idea. He rose out of bed, seeing now it was reaching nighttime, and headed over to the bathroom. He leaned over the sink, splashing cool, crisp water across his face. Then, closing the door, he took off his shirt. Who knew? Maybe it was something? But as he took it off, he saw his chest and nothing else of importance. He was fine. Yet still, he could feel it getting worse and worse, like heartburn times a hundred. He winced, splashing water again in his face. What was it, he wondered? And why was it getting worse?

It felt like there was a rubber band wrapped around him. Trying to get a little more comfortable, he stood up straighter, rolled back his shoulders, expanded his chest, but this only made him hiss in pain and double back over. He kept his hands on the sink, glancing at his pained and afraid reflection. It had never once been this bad. He tried to take in a breath, but quickly let it out again, the pain getting tighter, like it would break the skin. His eyes widened as, looking in the mirror, he could see it; a thin filament wrapped around his chest; shimmering gold and only sometimes visible like a golden spider web. He carefully stood a little straighter and examined it, wrapped tight around his chest and back.

"What the Hell…?" He whispered, before he groaned again and doubled over, the binding growing tighter. It hurt to stand or go against it, but at this point he needed it off. He winced and snarled in pain as he forced his strength against it, somehow keeping his back straight. He could feel something else, too: an extension, another part of himself, only just there, like a shadow, stemming from his back. It must have been his imagination, he thought. Or, he thought before he tried to move them. He nearly screamed and fell to his knees, this fake extension of himself pressing against the golden string. At this point he couldn't breathe, he felt like his heart wasn't beating. He could barely move. But he knew he could break it. He leaned over the sink and arched his back, doing what he had just done. He winced as finally a glimmer of gold fell to the floor. The pain was immediately gone, but he could feel a part of himself he never had before, feel it crashing into the door on one end and the shower curtain on the other, which subsequently broke open and parted, broken by an invisible force. Cas stepped back in awe as he saw in his reflection two arching, black shadows against the wall behind him; two arching black wings.

Cas stepped back, his heart racing with fear. What was going on? What was happening? He would have thought it was just a fluke or a prank had he not felt it himself. Yes, he was sure of it now, another two extensions from his back like arms, and he had control over each muscle and joint. He could move them out… he carefully bent his wing straight, feeling the skin press against the wall and doorway… and he could move them in… he folded up his wings, keeping them just behind his back. He stared at the mirror, still unable to believe it.

Cas was only just trying to call Dean when he saw the impala pull up to the hotel. He sighed in relief, putting down the phone and hurrying outside to meet Dean, stepping out of the car with a worried look on his face. He could tell from Dean's reaction as he walked out that he clearly looked pretty awestruck too.

"Cas?" He said, creasing his eyebrows as he stepped out of the impala. "What's wrong?" Cas shook his head stuttering a bit before resorting merely to,

"I don't know."

The two went inside and Cas tried to calm down a little. He found he could control weather his wings physically touched things or not (probably because he'd need to touch air to fly, which was an insane thought) so he made sure that he couldn't knock things over. Still, it took a lot for Dean to get him to sit down, and even when he did it was odd to think some strange entities attached to his back were floating through the back of the seat.

"I made you aware of… some trouble sleeping," Cas began slowly.

"Yeah, chest pain, right?" Dean reassured, a worried look to his face.

"Yes, that," Cas agreed, "But it was worse today. I figured I'd make up for some lost sleep, take a nap, but I couldn't even manage that. The nightmares kept waking me, and there was this tight pain in my chest…" he explained. "Then… I got up to splash some water on my face and calm down but… something happened."

"Something?!" Dean demanded.

"I'm still not really sure what it was…" Cas explained, shaking his head and casting a glance toward the ground. "But I got up and it just got worse and worse, until I could barely stand up, barely breathe. I felt like there was this way… I could push against it, like an imaginary extension, which I tried. It hurt but I saw this gold string wrapped around me like that was the source and somehow I broke it a-and then there were these huge shadows that just arched out but I could control them, I could feel them, and I still can, and they feel like…" He stopped for a moment, taking a breath to interrupt his now rapid speech. "Wings."

For a long time Dean didn't speak, his heart practically stopping in his chest. Oh god. It was happening already. "Wings…?" He asked, swallowing.

"Crazy, I know, but it's true, I just woke up and it's like… I broke a bind or something."

Dean rapidly stood, unable to hear anymore without wanting to take action. "Cas, I have to-" he said starting out the door again, but Cas stood and grabbed his arm.

"Dean, you know something," He knew, "What's happening to me?"

"I don't know what you're-"  
"Dean, I married you, I can tell when you're lying," Cas replied sternly. Dean sighed, looking worriedly back at him. He was torn between leaving right there and telling him the whole truth, but he knew he couldn't do either of those things.

"Cas, you trust me, right?" Dean checked.

"Of course," Cas agreed.

"Then you have to trust that I just can't tell you," Dean insisted. There was a look of honesty in his eyes, and Cas knew it was the truth. Yet still, he was afraid and curious. Somehow, when Dean began to leave again, he couldn't let go of his wrist.

"Dean, wait," He stopped him again. He looked down for a moment, afraid to ask the question itself. Finally, he got it out. "Am I… human?" Dean gave him a long look, his eyes ridden with pity and fear. He couldn't tell him that. But he couldn't lie to him either. So, without another word, he pulled away from Cas' grasp and slipped out the door, leaving Cas in awestruck confusion.


	3. His Flight

As soon as Dean was outside he hurried to the impala, getting some paint out of the trunk. Without a reference or a paintbrush, he started frantically marking the walls with the sigils he remembered. He knew they must have been wrong, but the angels would be coming any time now. It was too dangerous. He had to get them up before he even told Sam, who was sleeping upstairs.

Cas stood and glanced out the window at what Dean was doing. Now he was really starting to get worried. He'd never seen those sigils before, and based on how frantically Dean was slathering them across the walls, something was coming. Something to do with his wings… It felt odd even to think it. His wings. He had… wings. He could feel them now, the idle muscles, their position in space. He moved them slightly closer to him to make sure. Yes, they were there. Of course, this posed an obvious question: Could he fly?

If discovering his wings at all was a bad idea, flying was probably just idiotic. But still, how was he supposed to resist? Besides, how much bad could it do? So, he turned and slipped out the back door, coming out on the other side of the house than Dean. He walked a few yards away, knowing he'd probably need space. Around him was a huge field of grass and a clear, empty sky, cloudless and littered with stars. It was a little chilly, but not really worthy of the word cold, and the only wind there was was an occasional breeze heading towards the bunker. Perfect flying weather… I guess, he thought. God, this was surreal.

Well, it was now or never. Slowly, he stretched out his wings as far as they could go, raising them in the air. He felt quite powerful, knowing he must have had a wingspan of twenty feet at least. But he couldn't feel the wind against them, and if there was no air, there was no flying. So, without another way to do it, he thought to himself and ordered his wings to _appear, appear!_

But that, however, didn't happen. His shadow was in front of him, and instead of seeing the shadows of his wings appear, he saw the shadow of the rest of his body flicker and vanish into nothing. The wind brushed against him, passed through him, touching every atom of his body on the way. He shivered. It was a horrible feeling.

Well, maybe this was how it worked. He vanished and then he flew. And if it didn't work, what was the loss? So, without waiting another moment, he took a long breath and raised his wings before quickly beating them down. If they didn't catch the air, they caught something, because he felt his feet leave the ground as his body was thrown several meters into the air.

"Ah!" He shouted in startlement, seeing the ground now so far away and flailing his arms for something to hold onto. As the ground began to get closer again, he frantically told himself, _again, again!_

Frantically, he beat his wings for a second time, scooping them against the air like a paddle through the water, and he was launched further in the air. A grin spread over his face as the wind blew through his hair (and, well, technically through his head but you get the feeling.) He beat them once more, straightening out his body and keeping his wings open. The air caught underneath and he smoothly soared over the city, invisible to anyone below. He grinned down at the lights, the air rushing past him, his arms spread out. "Wooo!" He cried, knowing no one could hear him. He was flying!

After he circled the city for a moment or two after that, he figured he ought to head back to the bunker. He leaned to the left, finding himself turning back around. He let himself soar back to the bunker, not beating his wings and floating downward. Unfortunately, he was going down faster and more surely than he thought. The huge field was quickly approaching and getting bigger as his smile vanished and he tried to swing around and put his feet forward.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, no, no, no!" He muttered to himself. But inevitably, his heels harshly collided with the ground and he tripped forward, falling on his face and tumbling across the ground, getting coated with bruises in the process. Finally he stopped, lying on his back and aching all over. So, the landing needed a little work.

After a moment, he sat up and looked around. He was a little ways away from the bunker but far enough to talk. With a wince he stood and made his way back towards the bunker. He stopped when he saw Dean around the side, a book in hand and his hand still coated in paint. For a moment, Cas' heart stopped. Should I be out here? Should I be flying at all?

But then, he reminded himself that Dean couldn't see or hear him. So, fearlessly, he took another step closer to him, standing just behind him. He looked at the sigils that now nearly covered the house. He felt like… he knew those from somewhere or something, but nothing was occurring to him. Then again, all sigils looked fairly similar, he probably just saw something like it. Anyway, he had a creeping suspicion about who Dean may have been trying to keep out.

Dean spent a little while longer on the sigils, coating the house in them. Every now and again Castiel would look down at his hand to make sure he couldn't see it and neither could Dean and then he'd follow after. When Dean was finally done, he hurried back into the bunker and barged into Sam's room.

"He's got his wings," He said hurriedly to his brother, who was waking up, confused and in a daze.

"His what…" He muttered, slowly sitting up.

"His wings, Sam! He broke the binding spell and he's got his wings!" Dean demanded. Sam sat up and looked at Dean, the tiredness in his eyes replaced with dread.

"Just now?" He asked.

"No, a few hours ago."

"Dean, why didn't you-"

"I was putting up the sigils as fast as I could, you know they're already coming for him!"

Cas shivered, knowing it was him they were talking about. What did they know? Who was coming? Sam opened his mouth to argue, but shook his head. There was no time. He whipped off the covers (having slept in his clothes) and rapidly stood.

"We have to move," he told Dean.

"Where?!" Dean cried, "They'll still find him, he's basically both Heaven and Hell's most wanted and now they've got a pinpoint on him!"

"Did you kill the one that found him?" Sam suddenly brought up. Cas looked to Dean expectantly, who didn't speak.

"Well?" Sam asked.

"Yes!" Dean finally said. Sam rolled his eyes and sighed. "Look, Sam, it doesn't matter if I killed one or gave 'em a damn plate of cookies, they're still gonna find Cas, and he's bound to start remembering sometime soon! You know, you're right! As much as I hate to admit it, you're right! I mean, he's broken the goddamned binding spell, he must be figuring out what's happening to him by now, and so are the angels who are trying to find him! Now, we have to watch him close, and you know I'm gonna kill every goddamned angel that comes between us, no matter what! Just because my husband is a goddamned falling angel doesn't mean I'm not gonna do anything to protect him!"

"I'm a what?"

Both Sam and Dean's heads turned as the fallen angel appeared between them, so distracted he let himself become visible again without even realizing it. Dean's eyes widened with horror, knowing he must have heard everything.

"Oh… God, Cas-" he began.

"Dean," Cas began, fear in his eyes and strange images beginning to flow into his mind. For some reason, he hadn't linked angels with those men in white robes with halos, he saw a shimmering knife, a screaming blue light, a stark black suit. "Who am I…?" He asked nervously, "What's happening to me?"

Dean gave him a long sad look and Sam took a step back. This was between them. Dean put a comforting hand on Cas' shoulder and stepped forward, pressing his forehead to his. Cas sighed heavily, Dean's presence still as calming as it was.

"You're a fallen angel, Cassie," Dean told him softly. "Really. Literally. When you fell you… put a binding spell on your wings but I guess you broke that. Angels aren't supposed to fall, and now there are angels who are hunting you… not to mention you'll probably start remembering things from your angelic past." Dean looked down as he told him the truth, unable to hold it back anymore. Cas swallowed, trying to process all of it. An angel? A fallen angel? No… he was just… Cas. A hunter. A _human._

"No," Cas said softly, stepping back away from Dean. He wasn't exactly angry at Dean, but he didn't want to see him just now. He needed to be alone.

"Cas-" Dean interjected, but before he could continue, Cas took in a breath, told himself, _vanish,_ and he could feel the air pass through his body as he disappeared. Sam and Dean looked around the room, their eyes no longer locked on him. He was gone. Without waiting another moment, Cas hurried out of Sam's room and into his own, laying himself on his bed and reappearing to get around what he'd just heard.

What? An angel? How could that be possible? No… I can't be, he thought. I remember everything… I remember… What? The more he looked for the memories the more he found he didn't find them. All there were in his mind were doorways painted onto walls, and in his head, again and again he repeated, _I remember, I remember,_ until it wasn't the start to a sentence, grasping for anything he could find, it was just a sentence on its own. _I remember. I remember._ He let his face falter and his heart sink.

 _I don't remember._

He let out a long sigh, bringing up his hands and covering his eyes. So, if he wasn't Cas, who was he? And why, why on Earth or in heaven would he fall and do all this to himself if it's such a crime? Why? Why?!

"Cas?" Cas pulled his hands from his face and turned his head to the door, opened just partway, enough to reveal a worried Dean in the doorway. Without an invitation (a verbal one anyway) Dean entered the room. Cas ran his eyes over Dean's gentle seas of green, the tension in his chest already relieving. Dean tucked his hands in his pockets and flopped down on his back next to Cas and the two stared at the ceiling beside each other just for a moment.

Cas looked around the room, searching for the question to ask and the way to phrase it. He had so many.

"Will you tell me…" he began slowly, "How we really met?"

Dean couldn't help but laugh at the innocent question as he put his hands back behind his head. Well, I stabbed you and then we fell in love. Very romantic.

"Funny story actually," he confessed, "We've… come a long way, I'll tell you that much." Cas turned his head to look at Dean.

"Will you tell me?" He asked sweetly. Dean sighed and stared up at the ceiling, hardly knowing where to begin.

"Well…" he started slowly. "I was… in Hell. I had… sold my soul for Sammy's life, you know how much I care for him."

"Mhm," Cas agreed, lifting his head a bit to look at him, a bit concerned. Hell? Still, he continued.

"Either way, I only got a year in return, and when my year was up… you know the deal with the crossroads. Down I went. I was down there for a good long while before I was just… in my coffin, awake, and coming back up again. Of course, this never happened, and there had to be a reason. The reason was you, you raised me up from there, but I didn't know that at the time. Man, we did everything to try and find you. You even ended up burning out the eyes of a friend of ours with your grace when she tried to look at you."

"Really?" Cas asked, horrified.

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He said it more as a command then a request. Without even casting a glance in his direction, he kept going. "But me and my friend Bobby finally managed to summon you; that was when we first met. You walked in, the room coated in sigils, and, well, it wasn't love at first sight."

Cas creased his eyebrows. "What did you do?"

"Stabbed you," Dean said, so casually he almost sounded amused as he looked down at him.

"Oh," was all Cas could manage out. Ah, well. Things were different then, he didn't know him. Cas curled up a little and snuggled into Dean's chest. "Then what?" He asked.

"Well, the knife didn't work," Dena kept going, wrapping his arm around Cas. "You just sort of… pulled that out and dropped it. Then you knocked out Bobby and told me we had to talk."

"S-sorry," Cas interjected.

"Cas, it's fine!" Dean insisted. He was trying not to let it get to him, but it was clearly angering him. That or frightening him. Either way, he only kept that tone in his face for a moment before he continued.

"But yeah… you told me you were Castiel, an angel of the lord. I didn't believe you, not for a long time, I mean would you?"

"No," Cas agreed.

"Well yeah. But anyway, you asked me about my faith and all, and then you showed me those goddamned wings you had," Dean explained, his voice growing passionate. "Thunder cracked and I just see these two massive shadows stretch behind you, and you give me the eye like something between a war-stained soldier and someone trying to get into my pants. God it was just… overwhelming. I mean, scary as fuck, but completely amazing. And you know that was the first time I thought it." He cast a romantic glance down at Cas.

"Thought what?" Cas asked curiously.

"'I'm glad that knife didn't work'." Dean smiled down at him as Cas looked away, beaming. He pressed closer into Dean's chest.

"So, yeah," Dean finished up, "Then you let me know you only raised me for God's orders and that you had work for me, and all that."

"Sorry," Cas told him again.

"Don't-" Dean began angrily but sighed out any anger that he may have had. He looked away from Cas. "You know… this is why I didn't want you to remember."

"Why?" Cas asked him curiously. Dean slowly shook his head and let out a long sigh. Finally, he got up the guts to give him a genuine look into his gentle blue eyes.

"You weren't doing so well, Cassie," he told him honestly. "The memories you're gonna get… they're not gonna be sunshine and rainbows. They're gonna hurt."

Cas swallowed. Dean was tough, and he thought it would hurt? Still he nodded. "Okay," he responded.

"Just remember, Cassie, all through this… I'm here for you. You're not alone, and you're still loved and needed," Dean explained, tightening his arm around him. But still, Cas couldn't accept it until he understood. He shook his head, his chest tightening.

"Why do you say that like I was some suicidal mess?" He asked nervously. Dean bit his lip and swallowed, slowly bringing back the eye contact that he'd briefly cut off. His eyes swam in a true sorrow and empathy, but he couldn't lie to Cas.

"Cause you were," he answered him honestly. Cas shivered, his heart going faster. He was relatively happy here. When he remembered, what was gonna happen? Who was he gonna become? What if he didn't want to be like that?

"I'm scared, Dean," he confessed honestly.

Dean's eyebrows creased in sympathy and he couldn't look at him anymore, his eyes turning back to the ceiling. It was too late to tell him he was gonna be okay. "Just get some sleep," he said finally, and reached over one arm over his lover to the opposite wall, turning off the light-switch with a _click._


End file.
